So Close, So Far
by Jasmine2009
Summary: Abby needs help and she gets more than she bargained for with one Very Special Agent. Not really a Tony/Abby pairing, just circumstances that take them places they'd never otherwise go.
1. Chapter 1

Title: So Close, So Far  
Author: Jasmine  
Date: December 11, 2010  
Rated: PG  
Universe: NCIS, Season 7  
Summary: Abby needs help and she gets more than she bargained for with one Very Special Agent. Not really a Tony/Abby pairing, just circumstances that take them places they'd never otherwise go.

Chapter 1

Tony pushed Abby into the closet and slipped in after her, pulling the door closed quickly behind them.

"Shhh," he whispered, sensing she was about to say something.

She pursed her lips together, deciding her comment could wait, and flattened herself against the wall, never feeling so thankful that Tony's weight was against her. She wasn't sure if her nerves could take much more of this, and worried that her legs were going to give out, but there was nowhere to go pinned the way she was. She closed her eyes and silently thanked God that Tony had unexpectantly returned to work. '_Why'd he come back?_' she wondered, and then made a mental note to ask him about it when this was over, assuming it ended well for them.

The voices grew louder and she pressed her head back, as far as the wall would allow, knowing exactly who those men were and what they were after. They were the same guys who had tried to steal the file less than a week ago, and they were back with a vengeance, heavily armed and singularly focused: get the file. Obviously, the dummy file that had been sent out of the Navy Yard earlier in the week hadn't fooled them. Not that anyone thought it would, but they were hopeful that they could at least have bought a little time, and they had; unfortunately, it hadn't been enough.

Now, based on the conversation on the other side of the door, the bad guys were asking themselves, "Why take only a file when you can take the actual forensic scientist who created it?" Thank God Tony had come by when he did or she'd have been toast.

She could feel his breath against her head and feel his heart through his shirt as she listened to the voices. They were splitting up and searching the building floor by floor. It was only a matter of time before their closet hideout was discovered, and when she heard one of them brush against the doorknob, she thought her heart was going to explode all over Tony. Based on her lightheadedness, she was positive her lungs were no longer absorbing oxygen.

"Hey," Tony whispered, "it's going to be all right."

She buried her head into his shoulder, taking his energy and hoping some of his confidence would rub off; he always had so much of both. It felt good to lean on someone. She was fine when she didn't have time to think about anything; not so fine when she did.

Tony put his ear to the door and listened. He mouthed to her, "Let's go." Silently, he turned the knob and opened it, peering up and down the hall, "It's clear."

She clung to his hand as he guided her down one hallway, around a corner and through a door. Just when they thought the coast was clear, one of the no-neck goons appeared and almost plowed them over. If the scar on his face wasn't enough to stop her in her tracks, the barrel of his gun should have done the trick. But it was the deafening gunshot blast that paralyzed her and made her blood run cold. When she finally pried her eye lids open, she saw him lying on the floor, blood gushing from the wound in his chest while a puff of smoke floated off Tony's gun. She stared at the agent, thinking his expression was different from anything she'd ever seen on him before, and it unnerved her. But there was no time to judge; he had grabbed her by the hand and pulled her through the doorway.

By the time they'd reached the exit, Tony had killed another man. The thing that unnerved her was his demeanor; he didn't seem fazed by any of it. She, on the other hand, was left feeling nauseous. There was at least one more goon following them, which would explain Tony's sense of urgency, and the bullets whizzing by their heads would explain why he roughly shoved her into his car, shouting, "Get down!" as he returned the fire.

"There's no use running, Miss Scuito!" the goon yelled from a distance. "We just want the file!"

"Like Hell you do," she heard Tony mumble. More gunfire erupted and she sunk low in the seat, clasping her hands over her ears. It became evident that the last standing goon was set on accomplishing his mission, or, at the very least, avenging his colleagues' deaths.

Through a hail of gunfire, Tony jumped in behind her, shoved the key into the ignition, popped the clutch, and sped out of the parking lot fishtailing the entire way.

After what seemed like an eternity, she peeked out the back window, careful not to poke too much of her head above the seat. The traffic seemed normal. At least nobody was following them who was driving erratically and shooting at them. Finally she turned around and noticed the darkened road. "Aren't you going to turn your lights on?" she asked.

Tony hadn't even realized he was driving without them; the street lights seemed to illuminate the road just fine. He clicked on his headlights and smiled, "Huh. Much better. You okay?"

Somehow, he didn't seem like the same guy that just minutes before had killed those men. She stared at him. The expression he now wore was kind of sweet, maybe even innocent, and his expression was one from the old Tony she knew. But the dark and dangerous one of just minutes ago would be forever etched into her memory. "Yeah," she said, still trying to catch her breath and manage her fear. Something glistened and caught her eye at that moment and she noticed a wet spot on his sleeve. Following the red stain up his arm, she eventually saw the hole. "I'm okay, but you're not… You've been shot!"

The adrenaline that had been coursing through his body had subsided, and since she pointed out the blood, he was now noticing the hot burning sensation that a metal slug makes when it rips through your skin and soft tissue. "Now that you mention it—Hey, wait a minute…" he eyed her narrowly. "How many times did Gibbs tell you NOT to work late this week?"

"I'm sorry. I just had to finish up a few last minute tests for Anderson. But what about your arm?" She tore off a piece of fabric from his shirt and tied off his bicep as best she could.

"Did you tell Gibbs?" he hissed, feeling the pressure of the tourniquet.

"No. I didn't think it was necessary."

Tony shook his head at the naivety of the scientist. She might have an unstoppable forensics' brain, but her street smarts could definitely use some brushing up. He listened while she tried to defend herself in her usual fashion, knowing that her rambling would help calm her. If his arm wasn't hurting so much, he'd try and find a radio station that played her kind of music, figuring that would also help with the nerves. But instead he hugged his now throbbing arm close to his side and thought, '_she's entitled to blather; after all, it's not every day someone tries to kill you._'

She was still talking when he turned into her apartment complex and pulled into a space.

"Come on up and I'll fix your arm," she said while peeking under the makeshift tourniquet. "I'd tell you to go to a hospital but something tells me that won't happen."

"It's just a flesh wound," he replied in a British voice.

She smiled, allowing more of the trauma to slip away, "Nice... Monty Python?"

"Yep."

"I haven't seen that movie in years."

He turned in his seat to face her. "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

"Of course I am. You don't have to babysit me."

"You're welcome to come to my place, or I can take you over to Gibbs' place?" Tony let her think about all the possible places she could go to spend the night, hoping she'd suggest something. When she didn't, he added, "You know, I could take you to Ziva's. I'm sure you two could…" Movement caught his eye and his voice trailed off. All at once, his senses were on high alert and he grabbed her neck and pushed her, "Get down!"

The rear side window shattered. He returned fire while simultaneously throwing the car in reverse and driving backwards at full speed, bouncing off cars and over curbs, and sending smoke and pieces of his car every which way.

'_These guys were relentless_,' he thought. They somehow managed to follow them to Abby's place, and now they were hot on his tail as he jumped the curb trying to get back onto the street. He drove towards the city, wondering where the cops were when you needed them. His only hope was that these goons were hired help and didn't know the layout of the city. Much to his relief, he was able to lose them in the throngs of pedestrians, taxis, cars and busses near the university. When he was certain that he no longer had a tail, he pulled into an alley to survey his car and his passenger. She had slid down between the seat and the dash and her hands were clamped over her ears, trying to will the nightmare away. "Abby? Abby!?"

Her eyes were saucers and her lips trembled, "What the hell was that?"

"C'mon," he said, helping her up. When she finally moved, he was surprised when she threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly. "Whoa," he soothed, returning the gesture and realizing her whole body was trembling. "It's going to be okay. They're gone."

"For now! But what if they return?"

"Well—"

"—I…I can't believe this is happening!" Another thirty seconds passed before she finally pulled away, "I mean, what is going on? One minute I'm by myself happily listening to music and running the tests for Anderson, and the next, I'm with you and we're racing through the streets of DC trying to stay alive!"

"These guys don't mess around, Abby. They're mafia, and they protect each other, even if it means sacrificing their own life, because in most cases, it DOES mean sacrificing their own life."

"What am I going to do? I can't go home… I can't go to the lab…"

Tony removed a strand of hair from her ponytail that was stuck on her long eye lashes. "Don't worry about anything. I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"But if they found out where I live, they're bound to know where you live, and Gibbs, and Ziva, and McGee! Do you think they'll go after someone else? Maybe demand a trade? Them for me!"

He studied her a beat, maybe she had more street sense than he knew. A little lie wouldn't hurt right now, and he answered, "I doubt it. It's not the way they operate."

She slumped down in the seat and dropped her hands in her lap.

"Hey, cheer up, Abs. I'm with you and I won't let anything happen to you."

She cocked her head at him.

"Trust me."

She just stared, wanting to believe him but not fully convinced.

His lifted her chin with his finger and said, "You can trust me because I'm more afraid of what Gibbs will do to me if anything happens to you than what those mafia guys will do to me."

_**TBC**_

_**As usual, any constructive criticism or comments is greatly appreciated. It not only helps me want to share my stories, but it also feeds my writing muse. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Wake up, Abby."

"Huh… What… Where are we?"

"It's morning. I have to get to a bank."

She recognized the alley through a yawn, "To a bank? Why?"

"We're going to need money," he said as he maneuvered down the narrow drive and onto the downtown streets.

"If they have people on the inside," she said, still trying to clear the early morning cobwebs from her head, "and we use a bank, they'll know."

"I know. That's why I'm going to get cash and then we're going to Baltimore."

"Baltimore?" she repeated while stretching her long legs, or at least trying to.

"Yep, Baltimore. I have a friend who owes me."

She suddenly remembered his wound, "What about your arm? We should take care of that."

Tony hadn't slept too well because of it. Once he had managed to get Abby to sleep, he had poured a bottle of water over the wound and then tied off his bicep a little better with an old rag he had found in his backseat. He would need to take care of it, and soon, but, first things first: ensure the scientist's safety. He gave her a sideways smile and said, "It's okay. I hardly feel it."

He parked behind the bank and she waited in the car while he went inside. A few minutes later, he returned, saying, "I got all the cash we need."

"But we can't use cash. Anywhere we go and pay with cash is a guarantee we're going to be remembered."

"I know. That's why we're headed to Baltimore."

"Are you sure you're up for this?" She slid back his jacket and saw the blood soaked tourniquet.

"As up for anything I've ever had to do. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, but if something happens to you? You know Gibbs, McGee, Ziva, Ducky—Hell, even the Director… will have my hide."

An hour later, Tony drove into an industrial park on the outskirts of Baltimore and weaved his way down the narrow roads towards the warehouses. He eventually pulled up outside one of them and honked three times. As if on cue, the heavy metal door slowly raised. He drove through, into the darkened garage, and then listened as the door lowered behind him.

"What is this place?" Abby asked, hoping it was safer than it looked.

Tony was serious and replied, "Just don't say anything, don't get out of the car, and most importantly, don't remember anything you see or hear."

"Is this illegal?"

"Not very much," he said. He pulled out a wad of bills and began thumbing through it, and her eyes widened.

"How much do you have?"

"Thirty thousand."

"Where did you get that kind of money?"

"Didn't your momma ever teach you not to ask such questions?"

"She did, then she left, so now I ask. Where'd that come from?"

"If I have to keep you alive for the next three days, without being tracked, we're going to have to do some fancy shuffling. You up for it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No." He touched her arm soothingly, "Stay here and forget any faces you might see or anything you might hear. You got that?"

She nodded and watched as he got out, leaving her alone in his car. Three men approached, none of them looking like they were respectable law abiding citizens. There was an exchange of cash, some IDs, more plastic cards, and then she heard Tony say, "If this works, I'll consider wiping your slate clean."

"And if it doesn't?" the four hundred pound t-shirt clad mammoth of a man replied.

"I'll come back for the lot of you," Tony replied. Abby sensed that he was only half kidding.

For the umpteenth time, Ziva turned to see who was getting off the elevators. When it wasn't Tony, she only slightly deflated. "Where could he be?"

McGee shrugged, "No doubt saying goodbye to his latest one night stand."

"It's after ten o'clock!" she hissed.

"Tony always finds some excuse on days when we have a lot of paperwork to catch up on."

"But even Tony wouldn't be this late for work, no matter how pretty, or young, the girl may be."

Gibbs rounded the corner, "Don't bet on it, Officer David. McGee, call Abby and see if she needs help with Gambatti's laptop."

"On it, Boss." McGee listened as the phone went to voice mail. "She must be playing her music." Gibbs' stare forced him to reconsider his comment and he followed it with, "…So… I will go see her and ask her, in person, if she needs any help."

He smiled approvingly. "Ziva, did you locate the victim's girlfriend?"

"Not yet. Tony is supposed to be tracking her whereabouts, but he is not here to do that." Whether it annoyed her boss or not, she wanted him to be aware that her partner's unprofessionalism annoyed her. It didn't seem to faze Gibbs, though.

McGee entered the lab, expecting to hear the new wave music blaring, but it wasn't. "Abby?" he said as he walked towards her office. When he determined that she wasn't around, he decided to wait a few minutes. Everything in the lab looked to be normal. Her stuff was there, and the machines were ticking and hissing. After waiting a while, he picked up the desk phone and dialed, "Boss? She's not here. She must be with Ducky."

Gibbs furrowed his brow; he had just left autopsy and she hadn't been there, nor was she expected there. At this moment, his brain started playing out a scenario he didn't like. "Get to autopsy, check it out."

The Mossad officer was trained to detect nuances and she detected something different in her boss' tone, "What's wrong?" she asked, ignoring the person on the other end of her phone.

"Did you talk to Abby last night?"

"No. We left around seven and I thought she had already gone."

His phone rang again and it was Ducky. She wasn't in Autopsy and hadn't been in all morning. "Damnit!" Gibbs said. "Ziva, see what time she arrived this morning."

"I'm pulling up the NCIS personnel logs now," she said, hanging up on the person who was talking. Clicking on her keyboard, she studied the data and said, "It does not look like she has checked in yet."

"Pull the access logs and find out what time she left last night."

Ziva punched on her keyboard and displayed the previous night's logs. Gibbs walked up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. "I do not see her name," Ziva said. "It appears that she did not swipe out."

"Well, she sure as hell isn't here. So if she didn't leave, where the hell is she?"

McGee and Ducky entered the Bullpen with concerned expressions. From the steps, Director Vance said, "Gibbs! We have a problem! We've had a major security breach last night. McGee, pull the security tapes from twenty one hundred hours."

Several key strokes later, they were watching an empty hallway on the plasma. Then they watched Tony and Abby running towards them, only to watch them duck into a closet. They followed the path of their colleagues as they evaded and fought off Gambatti's hired killers. Gibbs and team were even fooled by the surprise encounter in the doorway and, like Abby the night before, wasn't sure who had been shot, until the dark suited henchman fell, and Tony lowered his weapon. Unlike the scientist, who stared at the dead man, Tony didn't waste time and grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out the door. McGee switched cameras and watched as Tony shoved her into his car and took off. In the silence that followed, they stared at the empty parking lot.

"They got away?" Ducky asked.

Vance nodded, "It appears they did. No demands from Gambatti."

"How come we're just finding this out now! Where the hell were the guards?"

"Dead. We found them this morning in the basement."

"How?" McGee asked.

"The night guards were all Gambatti's people. When the morning shift came on, they had no way of knowing the night shift guys weren't the real guards. After they cleaned up the bodies, they walked out of here this morning like nothing happened."

"Tony and Abby got away okay?" Ziva said, perhaps more to convince herself than anything.

"Check their apartments—"

"Already did," Vance answered. "Not there."

Gibbs stared at his director, knowing the best way to help his team was to keep his wits, but he wanted to fast forward through all the preliminaries and jump to the here and now.

Vance added, "You have any idea where they'd go?"

"McGee, track their cell phones. Ziva, follow the money. Did they use credit cards, debit cards?"

"Boss, their phones are off."

"Where'd they make their last calls?"

"Gibbs, Tony made a withdrawal this morning from First American Bank on Wisconsin Avenue."

"How much?"

"Thirty thousand dollars."

Gibbs looked down. With that kind of money, no telling what Tony had in mind.

"McGee!"

"Sorry, Boss," he said, trying to wrap his brain around the idea that Abby and Tony were now on the run from the Mafia. "It looks like they dumped their phones on E Street, near the University."

"Ziva!"

"BOLO out on Tony and Abby."

McGee added, "BOLO out on Tony's car."

Gibbs' mind was methodical, and he was systematically ticking off the obvious. Now it was time to investigate the not so obvious.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony avoided the highways. By now, they'd be looking for him, Abby, his car, and anything else that would help them locate their whereabouts, and Interstate 95 would be easy pickin's for the local LEO's. Besides, too many cameras. He took back roads, cut through neighborhoods, a few parking lots, and a lot of side streets before pulling into a gas station in the suburbs of Maryland.

"You need anything?" Tony asked.

"Some nerves would be nice."

"You're doing fine. Just keep your eyes and ears open and stay alert."

"Easy for you to say. You laid three people out without blinking an eye." She regretted it before she had said the last word. "I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean that."

Tony stared, thankful for his sunglasses. Killing was never his strong suit, but sometimes he thought it came far too easy for him.

"I should never have said that," she apologized again. "I'm sorry."

With a dangerous hint to his voice, he instructed, "Use the bathroom, do what you need to do and come right back here. You got that?"

"Yes," she said, uncomfortably. She watched Tony go into the convenience store, sure of himself, confident. Sometimes he scared her. Pushing those thoughts away, she got out and found the bathroom. She looked a mess. Her makeup had smeared and the dark rings around her eyes made her resemble a raccoon. Her lips were bare and her pigtails were crooked. What a sight she was. Tony didn't look nearly as bad as she did, and _he'd been shot_! Fixing her appearance, she quickly discovered that she didn't want to be so far away from him.

She did the best she could with what she had and returned to the car, where he was already waiting. When she opened her door and slid in, he held out his hand and said, "Here."

He was holding a large Caf-Pow, complete with straw. She smiled genuinely, "Thanks." Then she demurred slightly and began, "Tony, about what I said—"

"Don't worry about it," he said, cutting off her words but more because his mind was on something else. He smiled mischievously and said, "Okay. Now for the fun part."

"You mean there is one?"

"Of course there's one." He turned in his seat so he was more squarely facing the scientist, and began, "Abby Scuito, will you marry me?"

Coffee spewed from her lips and covered the dashboard. "What!"

"Not the reaction I was hoping for," he said while holding out a small velvet box containing a diamond studded wedding band.

She studied it, mesmerized by the ring's beauty, and then looked up into his face, realizing something. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack."

The memory of the Mafia goons almost killing them and still looking for them returned and she sullenly replied, "This isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day."

"I was thinking we'd skip the wedding and go straight to the honeymoon," he said, as he slipped the ring on her finger.

His enthusiasm was contagious and while admiring her finger, she playfully cooed, "Ohh, I like that idea."

"I thought you would. Here's what we're going to do."

Gibbs shifted impatiently from foot to foot while waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor. Finally, it opened and he hurried out. "Ducky!" he said, entering autopsy, "can you confirm it was Tony's gun that killed these men?"

"I can confirm that a bullet is what killed them, and I can confirm that the bullet is the same kind that Anthony uses in his firearm, but I cannot confirm they are one in the same. That's Abby's department."

"Why did Tony come back here last night, Duck? And why was Abby working late?"

"I can't answer the first question, but I do know why she was working late. She wanted to finish up the testing she was doing for Greg Anderson."

"I told her not to do that."

Ducky raised his brow insinuating Gibbs should have known better.

"So where would they go?"

"Ah, the psychological query. What you really want to know is where would Anthony take her? I don't think Abby has near the skills to evade the mafia like he does. She may be able to work her way around a lab, but I doubt she could do much against Gambatti's henchmen."

"So where would he take her that would be safe?"

"He'd keep her nearby," a voice came from the other table.

Ducky and Gibbs both looked at Palmer, wondering why he was even participating in the conversation. But his comment sufficiently intrigued Gibbs, and so he asked, "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. It just seems like something Tony would do."

"I have to agree, Jethro, it does sound like something Anthony would do."

Gibbs stared at Palmer, making him feel uncomfortable. "How close would he be?"

Palmer stammered, "I don't know."

"Guess."

"Well, knowing Tony, he'd be close. Close enough to contact one of us if he had to, but not so close that he had to be completely invisible."

Gibbs gave it a moment's thought before turning and leaving. In the elevator he ran through all the places where Tony could take her. Then, he systematically crossed them all off his list when he realized Gambatti would think of the same places.

Ziva looked diagonally at her colleague and commented, "Careful, McGee. We're going to need a fire extinguisher if you keep that speed up."

"I just don't understand why I can't locate them. I've tapped into every camera on the main roads and a few on the side streets, but so far nothing. I also thought that Abby would try and call me. Why aren't you worried?"

"I am worried, just not the way you're worried."

"What does that mean?" he asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

"I'm not worried because Abby is with Tony."

He stopped clicking on his keyboard and looked up, "What does _that_ mean?"

She had hoped he would drop the subject, but since he wasn't, she said, "It means that Tony is one of the best, if not THE best, agent to be with in a situation like this. He will make sure nothing happens to her."

"What are you saying? That I wouldn't be able to take care of her?"

"I'm not saying that at all. But since you bring it up, perhaps not in the same way that Tony can."

McGee pursed his lips and furrowed his brow at his Israeli colleague. He obviously didn't like what she had to say although he had to admit that there may be a small element of truth to it.

"Listen, McGee, it has nothing to do with you. It's just that Tony is a little more street-wise and experienced in matters like this."

"What she means, Tim," Gibbs said, entering the bullpen, "is that Tony's closer to being a criminal than you are."

He wasn't sure how that was supposed to make him feel, but he was fairly certain it didn't make him feel any better.

"What'ya got?"

"Zero hits on the BOLO's," Ziva answered.

"Still watching the tapes from the cameras, at least those that are working," McGee said, being distracted by thoughts of what Tony had over him, and not quite sure he liked the idea of Tony being alone with Abby.

"What about the money?"

"Nothing. We have people at the airports, train stations, bus terminals, and even the local ports. If they use a credit card, we'll be there."

"McGee, I want you to notify all the hotels and motels within a 30 mile radius. If anyone pays cash for a room, I want to know about it."

Ziva looked up, "You think they'll stay around here?"

Gibbs shrugged. Tony was as likely to board a plan to Nevis as he was to rent a room next door. Both were risky and there was no way of knowing exactly what he had in mind. Hell, Tony probably wouldn't know until the moment he did it.

The Israeli considered the suggestion. Digesting the information, she realized it didn't settle too well with her either, and exchanging a glance with McGee, she grudgingly admitted to herself that it was now her turn to contemplate her partner's intentions with the attractive Goth.

TBC

Thanks to all who have commented. It really does help me to keep writing. ~Jasmine


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tony handed her some bills and said, "Take this money and stick to the larger department stores. Pay cash for anything under twenty dollars and put anything over that on hold; tell them your husband will come by and pay for it later. What name do you want?"

She took the money and thought, "How about Marilyn."

"I like it. As in Marilyn Monroe?"

She smiled her answer. "Where are you going to be?"

"I'll be following you, making sure nothing happens. We shouldn't be seen together."

"But we're married," she said, wiggling her left hand in front of his face.

"That's for phase two of my plan."

For the next hour, Tony tailed her through the sprawling suburban mall as she went in and out of department stores, drug stores, and shoe stores, buying everything she thought she needed to change herself from Abby into Marilyn.

She set the packages and bags in the back seat of his car and got in the front. "I don't see why we can't change here. The mall is packed with people."

"We've been here too long already. We have to keep moving."

"Can we eat? Caf-Pow only takes me so far."

He drove in silence, which only slightly unnerved her. It was a rare moment when her 'boy' was quiet, and she wasn't sure she liked it, let alone knew what it meant. She figured he was thinking, although she knew it was more like planning and scheming. If she knew he was focusing on squelching the pain in his arm, she would definitely be frightened.

He found a quaint little Italian restaurant that was large enough so they wouldn't be noticed, but small enough to avoid lunchtime crowds, and most importantly, poor enough to forego any hidden camera footage. He carried the bags and they surreptitiously made their way to the small bathroom where Tony kept a lookout while she transformed herself.

"This is fun!" she yelled through the bathroom door.

"It's not supposed to be fun, Abs, it's supposed to keep us alive. How much longer are you gonna be?"

She opened the door and stood before him. He temporarily forgot about the pain in his arm as his mouth dropped at the transformation.

"You like it?" she asked hesitantly because she couldn't exactly read his expression. "You said you wanted the antithesis of Goth, so here it is!" she explained, twirling herself around. Her skinny jeans were tight and made of fabric that clung to her in all the right places, the pink floral blouse accentuated her curves, and her newly dyed brownish blonde hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves. Instead of the traditional black makeup, she wore shades of blues and pinks which highlighted some of her more feminine features. It was like he was seeing her for the first time.

She slumped her shoulders and cocked her head, "You don't like it, do you?"

"On the contrary," he cooed, "it's very appealing." He found it difficult to take his eyes off her.

"Now it's your turn. What are you going to change into?"

Ten minutes later he emerged from the bathroom. Abby furrowed her brow and stated, "You changed from Tony into… Tony? What's with the suit and tie? I like it, don't get me wrong, but I thought we were being other people?"

"They're not looking for me; they're looking for you. And if I'm going to be with you, I can't very well dress the opposite of myself, now can I?"

She gave it some thought and agreed, "I guess not. The opposite of you would be a disheveled bum."

He clicked his tongue and winked as if to say, 'Now you're catching on.'

As he walked by her, she asked, "How is it?"

"How's what?"

She nodded her head at his arm, noticing how he held it close to his side.

In the bathroom, he had cleaned it out with antiseptic that he'd bought and wrapped it with gauze. With a confident smile, he said, "It's fine. Like I said, it's only a flesh wound."

She didn't really believe him, and knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to focus on his problem when he had too many other problems to consider. "What now?"

"We eat, ditch the car, and find a hotel."

For some reason, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt safe in her little outfit that wasn't something she'd ever buy but was no less fun to wear. She linked her hand through Tony's good arm and immediately felt even safer, if that were possible. There were certain people who could relieve the tension and make everything seem okay, and aside from Gibbs, Tony was the only other person who could do that, and the only other person she'd want to be with in this situation. As she sat down at the table, she realized that she was so grateful to be around a man who just took control. He was in his element and she was seeing a side of him that she hadn't known existed.

She caught herself staring, and was infinitely thankful that he hadn't noticed.

"Why haven't they tried to contact us?" McGee whined.

"For the same reason we're not broadcasting our search," Ziva explained. "If Gambatti has someone feeding him inside information, they would be sitting geese."

"Ducks. The phrase is sitting ducks. WE could protect Abby," McGee said. "We ALL could protect her."

Ziva stopped typing and looked up, amazed. Stating the obvious, she said, "They infiltrated a federal building, killed the guards and were almost successful in kidnapping her. I do not think we can guarantee Abby's protection here."

"You know what I don't understand? Why did Tony come back to the office?"

"McGee, you do not wear jealousy well."

"I am NOT jealous! I'm thankful he came back because if he hadn't, well, I don't want to think about that. But what made him come back here to begin with?"

Ziva shrugged, "Sometimes there is a sixth sense at work. It can't be explained, it just is. Sort of like Gibbs' gut."

"And my gut's telling me we had better protect that file that Abby put together," Gibbs said entering the bullpen.

"Already taken care of, Boss. As of five minutes ago, we'd made ten duplicates of the file and we're sending each file to a different location. We've even relocated the actual evidence. Even if they break in and find the real file and try to destroy it, ten more copies exist. They can't track them all down and destroy them all before the trial."

"No, they can't. Just the person who put it all together and can defend it. Any hits yet?"

"Nothing. No, wait!" McGee said, staring intently at his screen. "There's something coming in now. We've got a hit on Tony's car. It's at a restaurant in Maryland."

"Let's go!"

Forty-five minutes later, they found Tony's car in the restaurant's lot parked away from the other cars. Gibbs inspected its exterior first: broken rear side window, at least twenty-five bullet holes, missing hub caps and only a partial fender. The rear window was cracked but had not yet shattered. Inside, he found an empty Caf-Pow cup. And blood.

Ziva studied the blood on the seat and on the rag and commented, "It looks like one of them was injured, perhaps by flying glass."

"Get it to Ducky and have him ID it. Ziva, interview the owners, see if anybody saw something."

"On it."

McGee studied the interior. "Boss, the blood is almost exclusively on or near the driver's seat. There isn't that much either. I mean in case you were thinking the worst."

"I wasn't," he replied as he strolled off down the street to get a better idea of what Tony might have been thinking and to clear his own head. He returned ten minutes later and met Ziva walking across the parking lot. "Gibbs, the owner remembers Tony but not Abby. Actually, the daughter, Carla, remembers Tony because she thought he was cute, but she also thought he had left with a blonde lady, not a dark brunette, and definitely not someone fitting Abby's description." She finished by saying, "They didn't draw attention to themselves, which is probably why no one else remembers them."

"They're being smart," McGee said.

"Anybody else see anything?"

"No. They do have cameras but they are not working; can't afford the monthly fees."

Gibbs studied the car. He looked in the direction it was pointed, and smiled. Then he wondered how Palmer got so smart.

Abby looped her hand through Tony's arm and looked around the hotel. "I've eaten here before, when The Lieings Corporation was courting me about a job offer, but I've never actually stayed at The Willard Hotel."

"Just look like you belong," he said, but when he glanced over at her, she was scanning the lobby, looking for Gambatti's men.

"Abby, relax and enjoy. Nobody's here and nobody will think to look for you here," he soothed.

She took a deep breath and visibly relaxed, "Call me Marilyn. How can you be so calm?"

He patted her hand and said, "Smile pretty and just act like you're the happiest bride to cross the threshold." They walked across the marble floor and approached the counter. Humongous bouquets of flowers separated the clerks from each other and Tony chose the window where the only man stood. He had eyes for Abby, noticing her tattoos and obviously enjoying the dichotomy of good girl versus bad girl that stood before him.

"May I help you?" he smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, reservations for two under Green."

When he pulled the paper, he smiled, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Green. We have your room ready. It's the Honeymoon Suite, with a view. In other words, it has a fabulous vista of the Capitol. Will you be taking advantage of any of our services this evening?"

"I don't think so," Tony responded, hinting at the pending evening and what it will bring.

"Of course. I will have your luggage brought up to you." The clerk looked around expectantly for their bags.

"That won't be necessary. We'll have our driver bring them up," Tony answered the unasked question.

Abby impatiently added, "C'mon darling. It's our wedding night and I don't want to spend all of it standing in the lobby."

Tony smiled at the clerk and said, "Just point us in the right direction and we'll begin our honeymoon."

The plastic card slid into the lock on the door that had 400 engraved on a silver plaque. Tony admired the room briefly before he realized he was alone. Looking behind him, he was met with a pair of raised eyebrows and an expectant stare. "What's wrong?"

Abby cocked her head and answered, "This is my honeymoon so I sort of have certain expectations," she looked down at the divide between the hallway and the room.

"You want me to carry you over the threshold?"

"I'd love it; thank you for offering!"

He tossed the card on the table and in a very fluid motion, scooped her up and carried her into the room, thankful that she was light, but not light enough to assuage the pain that bolted up his arm. Grimacing, he asked, "Do you like it?"

She took one look at him and dropped herself onto the floor, "Tony, I'm sorry, I completely forgot about your arm! Are you okay?"

He laughed and lied, "I'm fine. And you haven't answered my question. Do you like it?"

She looked at him skeptically before turning her attention to the room. All thoughts of his arm flew from her head when she saw the twelve hundred square foot suite laid out before her eyeballs. "Like it? I love it! I've never seen a place like this much less stayed in one. It's so…so…opulent!"

He smiled, happy he could please her. "Stay here while I check it out. He searched each and every room, and when he was done searching, he walked down the hallway, familiarizing himself with the various exits and the fire escape. When he returned, he hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob, triple bolted and chain locked the door, and breathed a sigh of relief, "Now, you can take a look around."

"That can wait. What I really want to do is take a look at your arm."

He wanted to change the dressing anyways so he agreed. She took his coat and hung it in the closet while he removed his shirt and tie. The bandage didn't keep the blood from soaking through and staining his shirt sleeve. "We're going to have to get you a new shirt."

"What for?"

"For when we go out to dinner!" She looked at his expression and followed with, "We're not going out, are we?"

"Nope. You're stuck here in this room until you testify."

She thought about what he said while she cleaned his wound. "Do you think they're still looking for me?"

"Oh yeah."

She poured some antiseptic on his arm. "The bullet went straight through, which is good. But the skin around the entry wound doesn't look so good. I really think you should see a doctor."

"Can't. Doctors have to report bullet wounds and you can bet your last dollar that Gambatti's men are in the hospitals waiting for just that sort of news." He studied her. She was so different from the Gothic scientist of this morning, yet not so different. "You don't have to be scared, Abby, just alert."

It's as if he could read her mind, but she didn't want to admit it. "I'm not scared… well, actually I am, but not much. I'm glad you're here." She tied off the gauze and admired her work, "I don't know how long that's going to last, but I'll change it again after we eat. When are we going to eat?"

Tony furrowed his brow, "What's up with you and food? You just ate like a couple hours ago."

"I can't help it. Whenever I get scared I get hungry. It's hereditary."

Tony wasn't sure he believed that, but he picked up the Room Service card and handed it to her, "Knock yourself out."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Gibbs walked into Autopsy followed by McGee and Ziva. "Ducky, what'd you have for me?"

"The bullets used to kill these two did in fact come from Anthony's SIG. Also, the blood in his car is A positive, the same blood type as Anthony. We won't know conclusively for another three hours if it's his or not."

"That's it?"

"What more do you want?"

Gibbs wanted answers, anything. "What about Abby. Anything on her?"

"Just her clothes in the trunk."

McGee perked up, "What?"

"We had Tony's car towed to Evidence, and stuffed under the spare tire were several bags of clothing. At first, when I saw the women's clothes, I thought our Anthony was being Anthony, but then I recognized the unmistakable line of Gothic black and realized they were most likely Abby's. I had them tested and confirmed. The men's clothing we found belongs to Tony."

McGee asked, "So where do you think they'd go?"

Gibbs said. "They can't come to my place, it's being watched."

"So is my place," Ziva said.

"As is mine," Ducky added.

McGee looked up to see them staring at him. He really had no idea if his place was being surveyed, "I haven't noticed anyone…"

"They're there, McGee," Gibbs said. "The question remains where did Tony take Abby?"

Ziva thought out loud, "The clothes obviously mean they changed. They must have changed into something out of the ordinary, something different. Something that would allow them to blend in so that they would not be recognized."

Ducky furthered the thought, "Then they would be free to return to this area, unnoticed."

Gibbs thought about it. The plan actually had merit and was possibly one he would use if he were in the same situation. Unfortunately, the sixty square mile DC area was still too large to search.

Chapter 10

Tony set the empty food tray outside the door and took a minute to cradle his arm. It hurt more now than it had all day and he figured it had been the adrenaline and worry that had kept the pain at bay for this long. He closed and bolted the door securely and returned to the living room where Abby was curled up on the sofa.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "You barely ate anything."

"Just got stuff on my mind. Besides, you ate enough for both of us."

"What can I say? When I get nervous I get hungry."

"I know, you said that already." He unconsciously rubbed his arm.

"That's really bothering you, isn't it?"

"I've felt better."

"Let me take another look." She helped him remove his shirt and saw the bandage was once again soaked. "Are you ever going to stop bleeding?"

"Eventually, when there ain't nothing left to come out."

She took the gauze off and was surprised to see the wound a deeper red than normal. Not wanting to worry him, she lied, "I think it's getting better." She re-wrapped it and helped him back on with his shirt.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I know. It's actually a little hot looking."

"It feels hot. Listen, it's late and you must be tired. I'll take the couch."

"Tony, we're both adults here. I think we can share a king sized bed."

Tony shook his head, "No can do, Chiquita. Gibbs' rule number 12."

"I won't tell."

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and whispered, "It's Gibbs; he'll know." He stroked her cheek gently and cast upon her a soft, desirous look.

She watched his pupils grow larger and she knew that look. It was what her mother called bedroom eyes, and she loved that she had that sort of affect on men, especially this one. He was such a handsome man and she often thought about him in ways she shouldn't. But she quickly dropped the thought when he left her to get a pillow and a blanket from the other room. When he returned, he waited patiently for her to vacate the sofa, which was now his bed. "Well, if you change your mind, I won't say anything if I wake up next to you." She kissed him on the cheek as she walked past him. She gave him one last thoughtful glance before turning out the lights and crawled into bed.

She lay there wondering about her testimony at Gambatti's trial. She tried to rationalize that it wasn't only her testimony that would put him away, but there were others who were going to testify too. In fact, she was told that there was a small chance she wouldn't have to testify if they could convince some of the others to. There were at least three other 'expert' witnesses who were willing to come forward and give damning testimony against the head of the crime family, but she knew it was going to be her testimony that would put him away the longest.

She wasn't sure what time it was or how long she'd been asleep, but something wasn't right. She rolled over and looked at the clock, 3:30 in the morning. She listened to the heavy breathing until she realized it must be coming from the other room. Clicking on the light, she sat up and padded to the doorway. Opening her bedroom door slowly, she approached her friend. He didn't look too good. "Are you okay?"

"Not really. I think my arm's infected, at least it feels like it is."

She sat down next to him and looked at his pale damp face. After feeling his forehead, she nodded, "I'm calling down and having them send up a doctor. You're burning up!"

"No. No… you can't do that."

"You can't mess around with this, Tony. I'll be fine, I promise."

"Abby!"

His tone caused her to stop reaching for the phone.

"I'm telling you they will be here if you call for a doctor. I know how they work, I know how they think, and I know that they're not too far from catching up with us. We have to stay smart."

She was now duly scared and faced him silently.

"But I have an idea."

McGee sometimes woke up early to write, and he told himself that's what he was doing now, but as he sat at his typewriter completely empty of thoughts, he began to question his reasons for getting up. He did have thoughts, just not the kind conducive to his novel. Mostly he was thinking about them, and when he thought about their personalities, he just knew something was going to happen between them. And then what would he do? He always thought he had a chance with her, that someday Abby would give him some signal that said she was ready for a committed relationship, but he never anticipated that it would be after she'd sampled the most eligible bachelor at NCIS. No matter how much he told himself he wasn't inferior to Tony, he somehow managed to feel that way most of the time.

He heard the creak of his floor before he heard the click of the gun and when he spun around, he came face to face with a .45 caliber pistol, two of them, complete with silencers pointed right at his forehead.

"Agent McGee? Do not move, do not speak, do not twitch. Or one of us may be forced to shoot you. You understand what I'm saying?"

McGee stared at the man, whose body weight put him at three times his own size, and his suit looked at least a size too small. The other man didn't say anything, but his hand was steady and he held his gun confidently.

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything, but someone I know wants you."

"You working for Gambatti?"

"In a way," he mumbled. "Now shut up and put some clothes on."

McGee slipped on a pair of jeans and threw on a button down shirt and some tennis shoes at the encouragement of the weapons. "Where are you taking me?"

"Ya know, for a sidekick, you sure ask a lot of questions."

McGee stopped dead and turned, but the skinny man pushed him so hard he almost fell. '_Sidekick?'_ he thought as he caught himself on the door jam.

The three men walked silently outside and across the parking lot towards an empty dark colored sedan. A black SUV pulled up in front of them and stopped, preventing them from reaching their car. Looking inside the SUV, McGee could see four men dressed in dark suites.

The three stopped. The big guy in the too small suit and pushing his gun into McGee's side acknowledged the four men. "Hiya, Sonny." Then he pushed Tim around the SUV and roughly shoved him into the back seat of the empty sedan. The skinny guy got in behind the wheel and started the engine. McGee straightened up when the tinted driver's side window lowered, and a dark complexioned man leaned in and snarled, "I can't seem to confirm your story, Buddy."

"It's like we already told you," Fat Man said from the backseat, "Mr. Gambatti ordered us to take him down. If you want to stand in our way, go for it; but if you know what's healthy, you'll let us take this bozo to _your_ boss."

"Mr. Gambatti didn't mention anything to me about this."

"He usually run his plans by you?"

Narrowing his eyes, the dark eyed man changed the subject, "Who are you?"

"We're the local help who Mr. Gambatti hired. I guess he wanted people who knew the area, especially after last night's fiasco."

There was an unmistakable feel of embarrassment that emoted from the man.

"Listen, Mr. Gambatti's expecting us, and if we're delayed by so much as five minutes…, well, I think you know what he's like when he's kept waiting."

With that, the skinny man let up off the brake and slowly rolled away, leaving the goon standing in the darkened parking lot.

Realizing things weren't quite adding up, McGee said, "Who are you?" When no one responded, he looked from the fat guy to the skinny guy, feeling more put upon than threatened as there was something 'off' about this kidnapping. "Who the hell are you guys? And how is it that you know about the sidekick thing?"

Still ignoring his questions, the fat man reached down and pulled several more weapons from under the seat. Speaking to the driver, he said, "Okay, Manny, take us out of here and lose these goons." He turned to the NCIS agent who was more confused by each passing minute and said, "If you want to stay alive, I suggest you get down. If you want to help us lose these very bad Mafia people, I suggest you arm yourself with one of those weapons, and start shootin' when they start shootin' at us."

McGee didn't have time to ask questions because once the driver cleared the parking lot, he gunned the sedan and they shot into traffic. The fireworks began almost immediately when the goons in the SUV behind them realized they'd been duped. McGee grabbed his weapon of choice, a Sig Sauer 45 ACP, and aimed as best he could out his window.

They roared down major thoroughfares, tight passageways, and one-way streets, swaying and swerving and narrowly missing pedestrians, cars, and bicyclists. The movement of the car was enough to cause nausea and McGee was ready to lose the contents of his stomach before five minutes had passed, but he remained fixed on firing his weapon.

Realizing the fat guy next to him couldn't hit a barn at ten paces, McGee leaned as far as he could out his side window, took careful aim and fired. All those days at the shooting range paid off because he hit his target, the front tire, and the SUV careened into several parked cars, landing wedged between a brick wall and a double parked delivery van.

"Nice shot!" the fat guy said, sweat pouring off his face. "Manny, let's get out of here before their secondary car picks us up or a cop recognizes our car."

McGee blinked, "You mean we're riding around in a stolen car?"

He got nothing but a smile and a nod from the fat guy. It was at that time that he sat back hard in the seat, gathering his thoughts. Obviously, these guys weren't the bad guys, but they certainly weren't the good guys either. "Do you know who I am?"

"Not really, and I want to keep it that way. And if you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever saw our faces."

Manny, the driver, pulled into a parking lot in China Town, stuffed all the weapons in a bag, and proceeded to wipe the car clean of prints. Then he and the fat guy started down the street. The walked about ten yards before they stopped. Looking back, they realized their prisoner wasn't following them, and they looked at each other, exasperated. "Look man," the fat guy yelled back to the car, "don't make me shoot you, 'cuz I got permission to do that if you give me a hard time."

"Not until you tell me who you are!" McGee yelled back.

Sighing, the fat guy pulled out his gun, complete with silencer, and McGee concluded that he would probably shoot him if given the chance, and most likely enjoy it. "Okay! I'll go with you, but don't shot me, permission or no permission!"

"Yeah, yeah," fat guy said, tucking his gun back into his belt.

Reluctantly, McGee followed behind until they came upon a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, a complete contradiction to the eyeballs. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Get in."

McGee squeezed into the backseat and watched as the fat guy barely fit in the passenger seat. Manny got behind the wheel and edged into traffic. They drove down the road as if they didn't have a care in the world.

"Do you mind telling me what is going on?" McGee asked, straining to see out the window.

"Yeah, I do. Just sit there and don't talk."

"I can barely breathe back here. How is it that two such big guys drive this kind of car?"

"Alvie!" Manny said, pointing across the street, "look over there!"

"Alvie?" McGee whispered, as yet another contradiction assaulted his senses.

At the intersection, the fat man looked across the way and spotted one of Gambatti's carload of thugs. Alvie casually said over his shoulder, "Git down and stay outta sight."

McGee squished way down low and wondered if the pedestrians walking by could see him folded in the backseat like an omelet. Alvaro and Manny both put on burgundy baseball caps and started smiling and nodding their heads like they were enjoying an amiable conversation. The light changed and they rolled through, unnoticed.

Manny exhaled, "That was too close for me."

"Yeah, me too. We're clear now," Alvie said over his shoulder.

McGee sat up and looked around, "Where are you taking me?"

"You jest don't shut up, do you? Tony never tole us that 'bout you," Manny drawled.

"You know Tony! Is he okay?"

"Yeah, we know 'em," Alvaro said, although it was difficult to discern his tone. "It was his idea to kidnap you. In fact, the whole plan was his, right down to telling Gambatti's men that we was at your place on Gambatti's orders and jamming their phones so's they couldn't call out. You shoulda seen the look on their faces when we tapped on their window and tole 'em what we was about to do," he belly laughed at the memory. "Yessiree, they was confused, but they knew enough not to interfere. If they know what's good fer 'em, they'll keep driving out of town and not stop until they're in another country."

Manny laughed and said, "Hell, if it was me, I'd leave the country on a plane 'cuz you know Mr. Gambatti's going to put a price on their heads for letting us walk right in under their noses and steal you."

McGee was finding it all too fantastic to comprehend, "So, Tony told you to kidnap me? Why?"

"You'll have to ask him. All I care about is paying off my debts. You think we're squared away by now, Manny?"

The driver shook his head.

"Damn! That's what I think too. You think we'll ever be able to pay off our debt to him?"

"Prob'ly not."

They double parked across the street from the famous five-star hotel and Alvie managed to huff and puff and pull and wiggle himself out of the front seat and open the trunk. Figuring he wasn't going to get any help, McGee awkwardly extirpated himself from the backseat.

"Here," Alvie handed him a bouquet of flowers and a suit jacket and said, "tell the front desk that you have a singing telegram for room 400. And tell Tony, 'Thanks. We had fun— in a nostalgic sort of way.'" He stuffed himself back inside the Volkswagen and waved, saying, "If I was you, I'd get off the street. Gambatti's people are swarming this city."

McGee stood there, holding the flowers and watching the yellow beetle disappear into traffic. Suddenly he remembered the threat of the Mafia and hurried across the street and up the steps into the entrance of the famed five star hotel.

He was never very good at pulling off a ruse and today was no exception. The clerk behind the counter looked skeptically at him as he tried his best to sell the singing telegram charade at six o'clock in the morning. Ultimately, he belted out a few notes of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" and was never so thankful for his mother's singing gene as he was right then. Somewhat begrudgingly, the clerk handed over the card that allowed elevator access and Tim hurried away, afraid the clerk would change his mind.

After he found the suite, he knocked three times and waited. He heard muffled noises from the other side and then he heard the locks being undone. The door swung open and Abby grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him inside, closing the door quickly behind him.

"Abby! Are you okay?"

"I am!" she said, throwing her arms around him and giving him a big hug, "but Tony isn't." She scurried off wearing only a hotel-supplied white bathrobe.

"What happened?" he asked as he followed her into the bedroom. He saw Tony lying on the bed with a cold rag pressed against his forehead. "What happened to him?"

"McGee!" Tony said when he heard his voice. "It's about time. What took you so long?"

"I'm not even sure I know what happened. Are you okay?"

"I will be." With Abby's help, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Just as soon as I get this taken care of." He weakly held up his arm, knowing the sight of all the blood would make his friend queasy. He thought he'd get some satisfaction from doing that, but what he really felt was relief, like a tremendous weight had been lifted. Even breathing felt a little easier.

"Help me get him dressed," she said.

Together, they threaded Tony's arms into his sleeves and put on his shoes. "How did you end up here? In the honeymoon suite?" McGee asked.

Abby dangled her hand and offered, "We're married!"

McGee almost fell on the bed. "W-w-what?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, McJealous. It's just a scam to keep Gambatti as far away from Abby as possible."

McGee noticed the thin layer of sweat covering Tony's face and furrowed his brow. "Are you sure you can travel?"

"Don't have much choice now, do I?" Leaning heavily on his friends, he stood, allowing the blood to work its way through his body and give him feeling in his legs.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I have to get to a doctor," he winced. "And I'm praying Gambatti's men aren't anywhere around when I do. And you, McGee, are going to stay here and make sure Abby gets to the courthouse in time to testify. You think you can do that?"

"Yes, of course I can, but what about you? Are you going to be okay?"

Abby took hold of Tony's hand and said, "I'm really worried, Tony. Are you sure you want to leave? I think we should try and have a doctor come to us."

He forced a smile at his Gothic princess. Pushing a loose strange of her hair aside, he soothed, "It's like I said before, Abs, the second a doctor walks through that door, Gambatti's men will be here. It's better this way. All you have to do is enjoy today with McGee, and then testify tomorrow. Don't leave the room, don't make any phone calls, and don't answer the door, and this will all be over soon." He kissed her on the forehead and slipped out the door and down the stairwell leaving her to deal with all the questions their MIT educated colleague would unleash on her.

And the MIT graduate was majorly conflicted.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was already eight o'clock and Gibbs wondered where McGee was. It was unlike the young NCIS agent to be late for work although not unheard of. He looked at Ziva and asked, "Any hits on the BOLO's we put out?"

"None. Tony and Abby have just vanished." Ziva pondered that thought a minute before saying, "You don't think Gambatti found them, do you?"

"We would have heard something if he had. Where the Hell is McGee?"

"I do not know. Maybe there is an accident on the beltway again."

Gibbs' phone rang and he picked it up. He listened a second before dropping it back into its cradle and saying, "Ziva, with me in MTAC."

Director Vance heard Gibbs enter the secure area and said to him, "Director Halloway says they spotted Agent DiNozzo."

Gibbs acknowledged the head of the FBI on the large screen by asking, "Where?"

"Agent Gibbs," Halloway acknowledged, "we got a report about fifteen minutes ago that a man matching Agent DiNozzo's description was seen entering DC General."

"Did you pick him up?"

"No, we lost him."

"Was he alone?"

"We think so. I sent Agent Fornell to the hospital. If it is him and he's still there, you can rest assured that we'll get him."

Gibbs added, "He's not the criminal here, Sir."

Vance shot his team leader a harsh glance.

"I realize that, Agent Gibbs, but he is a direct link to the Gambatti case and he's got a vital piece of this case in his custody, a Miss Abigail Scuito."

"I think I should go with Agent Fornell."

"I have no problem with that," Halloway said. "Keep me in the loop, Vance."

"Will do. As soon as we have information, you'll have it too."

With that, the FBI director's face was replaced by the SMPTE Color bars.

Vance gave his approval, "Go get him."

Gibbs drove to the hospital not much differently from the way the Israeli might have driven. Ziva lowered her phone, "Still no answer." She looked at her boss and decided to ask, "You don't suppose Gambatti's men have him, do you?"

"We'd have heard from Gambatti by now if he did." Even though that was true, the question still remained: Where was McGee? He forced that from his head. He had to work on one problem at a time, and right now, it was DiNozzo.

At the hospital, Gibbs inquired at the main desk. The volunteer, a petite woman who had no doubt voted for Harry S. Truman, shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, but we don't have anyone here registered by that name. You did say De-No-Zo, right?"

Ziva nodded, "Yes, DiNozzo. D-i-N-o-z-z-o. Anthony."

The woman shook her head slowly, looking at her monitor. "No, no one by that name has been admitted. But you're the third person to ask for him. May I ask the nature of his illness?"

Gibbs shifted nervously on his feet.

"We're not sure," Ziva answered, "he may have been injured in a car accident."

The woman thought about the patients recently admitted and slowly shook her head, "No, I don't recall injuries of that nature."

Gibbs flashed his badge and smiled at the woman, hoping her memory might improve. "He may have been shot. Don't you have to report gunshot wounds to the police?"

She didn't seem fazed by the badge and replied, "Yes, you are right. But to my knowledge, nobody came in with a gunshot wound."

"If they had, what floor would they be taken to?"

"Well, let me see," she said while pulling out a chart. "All gunshot patients would be taken to the fifth floor. That's usually the psychiatric ward, but there is a wing up there with higher security… you know, the police."

"Thank you," Ziva said and she followed Gibbs to the elevator. When the doors opened, FBI Agents Tobias Fornell and Ron Sachs were standing inside.

"Gibbs, Officer David, nice of you to join us. Do you have any idea where DiNozzo would be?"

"I have an idea. What have you already searched?"

"We have men starting on the top floor and working their way down. Agent Sachs and I started on the ground floor and we're working our way up."

Gibbs pondered his explanation, weighing the pros and cons of having the FBI tag along.

Fornell recognized the silence and said, "If you know something, it would be in DiNozzo's best interest to share it."

Sachs added, "We're pulling the video tapes and as soon as we run them, we'll know exactly where he went, so you might as well tell us."

Gibbs pressed five on the elevator panel and waited for the doors to close. "Have you checked the fifth floor yet?"

"No, my agents are finishing up on the seventh floor. Why the fifth?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Gut feeling."

The door opened on the fifth floor and all four agents stepped into the hall. This floor was different from the others. For starters, there was nowhere to go. Both the East Wing and the West Wing were shut off by heavy metal doors and the only way they could be opened was by the nurse who was stationed on the other side of a glass window.

Fornell and Gibbs both flashed their badges but the nurse was unfazed. Fornell started, "We're looking for Agent Anthony—"

"—We're looking for this man," Gibbs said, cutting off his FBI counterpart and holding up a picture of Tony. "Have you seen him?"

She studied the photo a second before nodding, "Yes, I have. He was admitted earlier this morning and taken to room 512."

"Can we see him?"

"He's only allowed one visitor at a time and he already has one. I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait."

Gibbs and Fornell exchanged a worried look. Gibbs pressed, "Who is this one visitor that's with him?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. You'll have to speak to the attending physician or to the officer on duty."

Fornell whispered to Gibbs, "There's only one person—"

"—I know." Gibbs raised his voice; reading her nametag, he toned, "Nurse Mansfield, I need for you to buzz us through. If you don't, I'll shoot the lock off the damn door!"

She was startled by the outburst, but it was the man's tone that took her back a beat. Wide eyed, she pressed the button. The minute they heard the buzzer they pushed open the heavy doors and hurried towards room 512, weapons drawn.

The police officer stationed outside was stopped by an FBI badge being thrust in his face. Sachs whispered, "Who's in there?"

The officer lied, "Just his doctor." Then he lagged behind, choosing to defer to the federal agents than being discovered as one of Gambatti's bought cops. Gibbs listened at the door. He held up one finger at a time, and on three, they pushed through. "Federal Agents!"

Tony could barely see his boss through the slit in his left eye which hadn't completely swollen shut yet. One of Gambatti's men was holding him in a neck lock, crushing his larynx and rendering him immobile, not that he could have moved around much anyways; he'd been beaten pretty badly. Two other goons had been leaning up against the window, looking bored by the events, at least up until the point when four unwelcomed guests came bursting through the door. And the fourth and final man was standing on the other side of the bed, smoothing his Sap gloves over his fingers.

"Let him go," Gibbs toned holding his gun steady.

Leo Coletti was startled only briefly by the sudden intrusion. He kept his gun pointed downwards and greeted them, "Agent Gibbs, I believe? We've never been formally introduced, but your reputation precedes you. And Agent Fornell, I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, but it never is. However, since you've chosen to involve yourself in matters that don't concern you, welcome to the party. Maybe we'll have better luck with one of you telling us what we need to know."

Gibbs looked over at his agent. He had obviously been at the mercy of these thugs for quite some time. "I said, 'Let him go.'"

Leo studied the silver haired man a beat before responding, "Unfortunately, we don't have the information we need yet. And your man here has already cost my boss four men. I have to commend you, Agent Gibbs, he's particularly well trained… for a federal agent."

Ziva studied her partner. He was hanging on, but barely. There was a gash on his check that didn't seem too bad but between that wound and multiple cuts, his face was almost completely covered in blood, and his hair was matted, spotted dark red. His right arm was bleeding and it hung at an odd angle at his side. His breathing was labored and based on the amount of blood on his clothes and in the hospital bed, it looked as though he'd been worked over for hours.

Gibbs reiterated, "Gambatti's about to lose four more men if you don't let my agent go."

Leo smugly stated, "You have to ask yourself if you're prepared to lose your man, because I'm prepared to lose mine."

"Really," Fornell said.

"Yep, because we're dead anyway if Mr. Gambatti doesn't get the information he wants, but you have a chance at saving everyone in this room. All you have to do is tell us where Ms. Scuito is hiding. You do that, and we all walk away happy."

"Nod all lo' vus," Tony gurgled, his mouth full of blood.

For his efforts, he got lifted by the neck a little higher off the bed.

Leo continued, "Now, we're having a bit of a problem getting him to talk. Maybe you could persuade him?"

It had been a long time since Fornell had seen an agent as messed up as DiNozzo, which served only to intensify his anger. He wanted desperately to take a shot and he felt he had a clear one; it was communicating his intention to his counterparts that was going to be a problem. "Gibbs?"

The standoff was tense and neither side moved, which meant the least little twitch could spell disaster for everyone. "Yeah?"

"I was thinking about the Sanchez standoff. You remember that one?"

Gibbs sized up Tony's condition, "I do, but I doubt Officer David does."

Leo looked impatient, confused by their cavalier conversation, and irked by their delay tactics. Moving his gun from the floor to Tony, he lowered his voice and said, "I'm not playing around anymore, Special Agent Gibbs. You tell me where Ms. Scuito is and I just might let him live."

"And if we don't?"

"Then we're blasting our way out of here and taking as many of you with us as we can. And just so we're clear, my first shot is going through your agent's head," Leo stated, extending his arm so his gun was just inches from Tony's temple.

Sachs said, "I remember reading about the Sanchez case. It was before my time, but it's standard reading at the academy. I'm game."

Leo took a deep breath through his nostrils, pushing his tongue up over his top teeth. He was finding it impossible to suppress his annoyance. "You don't seem to understand the severity of this situation, Agent Gibbs. If you give up the scientist, everyone walks away from this. We don't plan on killing her, just making it terribly inconvenient for her to testify. Of course, we'll have to hang on to your agent here as collateral, and I can't guarantee that Gambatti will be as forgiving towards him as I've been, but you'll most likely get everyone back… alive."

Tony coughed, no doubt finding it more and more difficult to breath with the goon's fat arm wrapped around his neck. "I…I remember Sanchez—" Tony whispered. The goon wrenched his neck again, this time causing him to moan in agony.

"Vince! Leave him alone. It looks like they may be considering our offer."

Gibbs cocked his head at Tony's comment. The odds were in his favor but they still weren't very good odds. "Tony, if you were going to give up Abby, when would you do it?"

Leo smiled, that's more like it. "You're a smart man, Gibbs."

Tony blinked through the blood in his eyes and focused on the clock. Gibbs and Fornell and Sachs glanced at it as well. Finally, Tony gurgled, "At eight…"

Leo smiled, tasting the victory and basking in the glory of the moment when he would walk into Gambatti's office with both Abby Scuito and Anthony DiNozzo; the two people he wanted most in the world. He wasn't sure which one of the idiots with him would get the privilege of accompanying him, but he didn't care. He was on the fast track and it was just a matter of time before his boss repaid him appropriately.

Leo and his thugs didn't even know they were dead; it was doubtful if they even heard the blast as the bullets ripped through their foreheads.

Only the fat man holding Tony knew because, technically, he was Ziva's man, and since she didn't have a clue about Sanchez and the FBI standoff years before, he was given a reprieve, all of two seconds worth of one, which is exactly what it took the Israeli to react to the events. He did manage to get off one shot before the bullet in his head rendered him useless, and he fell, taking Tony down with him.

Time and people froze. The living were waiting for one of the dead to not really be dead. Ziva waited for someone to come barging through the door. And from the heap of men strewn across the floor, only one man stirred.

Gibbs kicked the gun aside and felt for Leo's pulse. Fornell did the same to the two goons by the window, and Sachs checked the fat one. Ziva went to Tony, feeling for his pulse since there was too much blood on him to tell if he'd been shot in the melee. She found one, a strong one, but he was a complete mess. "Hang on, Tony," she soothed. "Help me get this guy off him," she commanded over her shoulder. Standing, Fornell holstered his gun and with Sachs' help, he dragged the fat thug off Agent DiNozzo, dropping his lifeless body in a corner. Gibbs leaned over his agent, getting into his line of vision. "Tony?"

There was only a slight groan as Tony tried unsuccessfully to open his eye lids.

Seeing his arm bent in an awkward position, Gibbs shifted and with Ziva's help, he popped the shoulder back into its socket, knowing that pain was everywhere on his agent, yet completely unavoidable at this stage.

After a few seconds of jagged breathing, the tension floated out of his body and, if it were at all possible, it looked as though the muscles in his neck and shoulders had relaxed.

"How're doing?" Gibbs asked while feeling his pulse in his wrist.

Opening one eye, Tony tried to smile but he only managed to whisper, "Lucky nummer eight."

"Yeah," Gibbs smiled, knowing as long as Tony joked, he was going to be okay, "lucky number eight."

TBC

**_Again, thanks to everyone who posted a comment. I'm glad you're enjoying it. ~Jasmine_**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ziva shifted in her chair. She was getting uncomfortable and checked the clock on the wall, again. She hadn't left Tony's side since his return from surgery and that was five hours ago, and she didn't notice that his eyes were open.

"Ziva?"

"Yeah? I'm here, Tony."

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

He thought a minute, obviously struggling with some calculations which at the moment seemed far beyond his brain power.

She leaned over him and rubbed his arm, "Today is Gambatti's trial and Abby should have already testified."

"She okay?"

"She is fine, thanks to you."

He didn't feel like he deserved any kind words. He felt awful. "How's McGee?"

"He is fine too."

He stared at the ceiling for it was about the only thing he could stare at. He was flat on his back with not so much as a pillow for comfort. He could see his arm and it was securely encased in plaster and it seemed suspended in air. He closed his eyes at a feeble attempt at keeping the pain at bay.

"I can call the nurse if you need her."

"What can she do?"

"She can give you more pain medication."

Tony's insides were on fire and his head pounded. And his arm ached. Hell, there wasn't a part of his body that didn't hurt. Even his hair hurt, and he wondered if that was possible. He had questions to ask, but through the haze it was too hard to formulate them.

"Do you want some water?"

He nodded.

She wasn't sure how much he took, if any, but she dabbed up the excess moisture around his lips and asked, "Can I get you anything else?"

He shook his head. Swallowing hurt. Blinking hurt. He figured out he was in a neck brace and that started him thinking about the rest of his body. He tried to move his legs but they felt like lead. "What's wrong with me, Ziva?"

"Aside from the obvious?" she teased.

He smiled but his eyes weren't in it. She rubbed his arm and explained, "You were shot twice, once in the arm and once in your shoulder. The bullet in your arm went straight through but the one in your shoulder didn't. You also took a bullet graze to your head, which is probably why you have a headache and are seeing two of everything. Gambatti's men worked you over pretty thoroughly and you have a concussion, broken arm, and a broken foot. All said, the doctors are pleased with the surgery and are cautiously optimistic about your recovery."

He blinked several times, taking in her words but not too sure if he was comprehending everything. "What does that mean?"

"It means that they think you'll make a full recovery if you do exactly what they say and give yourself time to heal." She smoothed down his blankets and straightened his hospital gown. He still had blood on most parts of his skin and she filled up a small basin with warm water and gently dabbed at his skin, cleaning him up.

"Can you call the nurse?"

Ziva pushed the button and a minute later a middle aged woman with pre-mature graying hair entered. Ziva said, "I think he wants some pain medication."

She looked through his chart, grunted something, and said, "I'll be back."

When the door opened again, Ziva expected it to be her, but instead, it was Abby. "Is it okay to visit?" she tentatively asked, poking her head inside.

"I think he'd like that," Ziva smiled. "Tony, you have a visitor."

"Not just one," Abby corrected. Following her into the private room was a stream of people.

Tony opened his eyes but again the only thing he could see was the white ceiling above him. Soon, Abby came into his line of vision.

"Abs…" he said, exhausted.

She held his good hand and smiled down on him. Her blondish locks and soft make-up was exactly how he remembered her. "We did it, Tony," she whispered, "We got him."

As much as he could, he squeezed her hand, "_You_ got him."

She'd continue that argument later, and said, "Actually, we all got him. When he found out I had been hiding right under his nose, Mr. Gambatti had to be restained! He's not going to be bothering anyone anytime soon." She rubbed his arm softly and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good."

Ziva shrugged, "He's in a lot of pain. The nurse is getting some pain killers."

Tony tried looking around but finally he gave up and asked, "Where's McGee?"

"I'm right here," McGee said moving into his line of vision.

"Any problems?"

McGee wasn't sure what he was referring to, but he guessed it was getting Abby to the courthouse in time to testify. "No, no problems at all. Except," he thought of something, "I'd still like to know how you managed to kidnap me right under Gambatti's nose. Who were those guys?"

Fornell had lots of questions and hearing McGee's question, he asked, "You got kidnapped, McGee?"

"Yeah. And taken to The Willard Hotel."

Abby said, "We sure confused the concierge, Tony. Imagine his surprise when I went up to the room with you and came out with McGee."

Fornell was trying hard to follow the NCIS ruse, perhaps one of the best hide and seek cons he'd ever seen. "Wait. You spent the entire time right here in DC at The Willard Hotel?"

"The Honeymoon suite," Abby said, waving her ring in the air. "We're married."

Fornell looked even more confused. Did he miss something? "Who's married?"

"Tony and I."

"When did you do that?"

Enjoying his expression, she leaned down to Tony's ear and said, "Tony, darling, you left before we could consummate our marriage."

Ziva and McGee startled; was this all part of the continued ruse, or had they been left out of the office gossip? Gibbs smiled.

Tony mumbled, and all they could hear was, "Rule Number 12."

Abby smirked, "Yeah, about that… I'm not sure I like that rule anymore."

Gibbs shook his head, having lagged behind just in case any of Gambatti's men had thoughts of reprisals for what his team had done. He stepped aside when the nurse came back, and if she didn't look happy earlier, she really didn't look happy now. "Excuse me, but there is only supposed to be one person in here at a time." She weaved her way through the visitors and set her tray on the bed. Without waiting for an answer, she fiddled with his IV line, plunged the needle in and released the contents of the syringe directly into the tube. She checked his bandages on his shoulder, wrote down his vitals, and left without saying another word. Gibbs realized she was used to having prisoners and such under her care and the reprimand was her way of saying, 'I did my part; can't help it if you all don't listen.'

Gibbs stepped up next to Tony and looked down on him. With the medication taking affect, he was fading fast, but he did manage a soft moan, acknowledging that he recognized his boss.

"You did good, Tony." And it was with that final thought that his senior field agent lost any battle he may have been waging against sleep and his head titled slightly to one side as he fell into a deep, drug induced slumber.

"I will stay with him," Ziva announced.

"I will too," Abby said. "Tony was right, you know. He said the moment he saw a doctor, Gambatti's men would be on him." She studied his bruised face and battered body and sighed. Even though he didn't know it, she held his hand.

McGee wasn't sure how he felt just then. He was accustomed to women fawning over his friend, but he didn't like it all that much when Abby seemed to be one of the ones doing the fawning. But he did owe Tony a huge debt of gratitude. If not for him, Abby most likely wouldn't be alive, and for that, he was thankful. And he was thankful for one other fact that he'd just learned. At least now he didn't have to wonder what the honeymoon consisted of. He suddenly felt good. Relieved that Tony was going to make a full recovery, relieved that he'd gotten Abby to the trial on time, and relieved that she was still pure and virginal, at least as far as he was concerned.

Gibbs gave his Gothic scientist a peck on the cheek, noticing her worried look, and added, "Abs, he's going to be okay. After all, this is Tony we're talking about."

~~Fini

**_I had a lot of fun writing this and it has made me want to write more Tony and Abby stories. I think they have a very unique relationship which is fun to explore. Thanks to everyone who read and commented. It really does make a difference. ~Jasmine_**


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